


The Farmer and the Consort

by FatlockFills



Series: Kingdom of Holmesvia [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Fatlock, Feeding, Generic European AU, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Medieval AU, Omegalock, Omegaverse, Weight Gain, a/b/o dynamics, feederism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:26:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatlockFills/pseuds/FatlockFills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic request: King Sherlock has a whole harem of plump, fertile omegas to choose from, but his favorite by far is John Watson. He spends all of his free time caressing the omega's fat and feeding him up until John is the fattest omega in the palace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Farmer and the Consort

"It’s plain to see by the grooves on your hands that you are accustomed to wearing heavy rings. Rings that no one of your station could afford." 

There was a ripple through the room at the king’s pronouncement, and he smiled at the gathered crowds. 

"Your Highness," the man began, sweat breaking out on his upper lip and sliding down from his scalp, "These are but the grooves of the reins, from lacing my fingers through them to steady the plow horse…" 

"You, plowing your own fields?" King Sherlock snorted. "Why, you’re almost as soft as an Omega. Up, John. Go compare guts." 

The fat Omega that was seated at the king’s feet pushed himself up with a grunt, cloth groaning as he did; the king like to see his Omegas caught in tight fabric that displayed all they had to show. 

The Omega stood side by side with the Alpha farmer, and turned this way and that so everyone could see that the round, heavy globes of stomach they sported were similar in shape and heft. The farmer turned crimson, and the king dismissed the case with a wave of his hand. Oh, how he was bored with hearing the plights of the people; it might keep him popular, but he really didn’t care. Surely the magistrates could see to all this? 

——

"You know," he said later, stroking a hand down John’s belly, "I don’t think it’s right that a farmer managed to get almost as fat as you are." 

"Sheer laziness, My Lord." The Omega leaned back on cushions, and hummed when the king undid the laces on his breeches, allowing his round white stomach to push out. 

"I agree. From now on you’ll put in more effort."

"What?" John looked up, and the king raised an eyebrow. "I mean, um, Your Highness, I don’t understand…" 

"I want you eating ten times as much. From morning until night, if you must, until no one in the kingdom can rival your size." King Sherlock squeezed the paunch that he’d put on display, and the Omega shivered in his hands. 

"Yes, my Lord." 

——

At the next yearly meeting, John no longer crouched at his lord’s feet. He’d grown too fat for that to be comfortable; now he relaxed on a pile of cushions, stuffing his face with pork pie and sweet buns stuffed with currants, and the King’s hand was never far from the upswell of his gut.


End file.
